


Legacy Circuit

by Samuraiter



Category: Chrono Trigger
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samuraiter/pseuds/Samuraiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robo continues to be the guardian of the Ashtear family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy Circuit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Healy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healy/gifts).



At first glance, the exterior of the house had not changed. It had retained its basic shape, its color scheme. But the materials used in its renovation belied that façade – plastics in place of woods, the synthetic in place of the natural. To say nothing of the electric lights that Robo could see through the windows. And he had helped make it all possible. But he had not come home for any of that. He had his arms full of groceries. After all, one still needed staple foods to put into all of the appliances that did the cooking. And he had help to carry it – more help than he needed, to be honest.

He appreciated the company, though – eight grandchildren, in total. All of them reminded him of Lucca in one way or another. The simple beauty of genetics, perhaps. The oldest had fifteen years behind her, about the same age as Lucca when he had first met her and accompanied her on all of those adventures through time. The youngest had made it to her fourth year, and she was mostly there so that the others could keep one eye on her and prevent her from being underfoot at home. She was quite happy having Robo be her chariot, and she sat contentedly on his head.

The door opened for them – one of the young men who had married into the family, except that he had stopped being quite so young. He had a touch of gray in his hair, in fact, but Robo declined to mention that to him, preferring instead to thank him for letting them all in as the parade of groceries and grandchildren made its way to the kitchen to stuff everything into the pantry. No one commented on the fact that he was a robot. No need to, perhaps. He had been a member of the family since the beginning. Not that he had a title. One seemed unnecessary. He was simply Robo, and that was all.

Preparations for dinner were soon under way, and that meant it was time to go and find the reason the entire family had gathered at the old house. Whether or not it was her birthday, Lucca always had multiple projects going in her laboratory. Granted, she did not spend every single day in there, as she once did, but she still made it the centerpiece of her life – always a new invention, always a new theory, always a board full of diagrams and documents and assorted errata. And he was always there to assist her in one way or another. There was, in truth, no other place he would rather be.

He found her seated at her bench, reassembling a diving helmet that she had made from cast-offs from other projects. It reminded him of his own head, at first glance, but with a variety of valves and hoses that he did not possess. Rather like her to never waste anything, and he always wondered at her ability to turn what looked like a pile of detritus into a useful object. He waited patiently for her to finish the assembly before making a grinding noise that passed for clearing his throat. (Making a loud bell-ringing sound was too abrupt, he thought.) She then looked up and smiled at him.

Hard to believe Lucca had become a grandmother. She still had the same bright eyes she always had, albeit with wrinkles at the corners. Time had not dimmed her energy. She stood up and dusted herself off, taking off her hat and goggles and setting them on one of her tables before nodding to Robo and saying, "I suppose that deep-fried turkey is not going to eat itself?" A delicacy that admittedly looked quite pleasing to his receptors, setting aside the fact that fried food had long-term health consequences if experienced on a regular basis. But this was, after all, a special occasion.

She took the hand he offered, using her other hand to pick up her cane and use it to keep herself steady. Neither of them liked the fact that she had to use it, and at least one of her proposed inventions concerned a new method for replacing bones and joints, but they had adjusted to it. One could only run around on adventures for so long before it caught up to the body, and that was true whether one was a robot or a human. That being said, Robo did not mind being able to walk with her, listening as she explained how close she was to a breakthrough on a miniature submersible.

The family had gathered around the table – the children, the grandchildren, neighbors who had been more or less adopted by "Grandma Lucca" over the years, several others. Not the first time, Robo wished that Crono and the others could be there, too, but their adventures, like his and Lucca's, had never quite stopped, and he knew that they were there in spirit, if not in person. He considered leaving chairs open for them as a symbolic gesture, but ... as long as he remembered, that was not necessary. And his memory was incapable of forgetting anything unless he purposely erased it.

Conversation, food, laughter – all so wonderful, the things that made a house feel like a home. And yet Robo felt himself thinking ahead – no particular reason, merely a mind that, like a human brain, could not help but be busy. One day, the grandchildren would have children of their own, and those children would then have children, and he would still be there, still be Robo. He did not like the idea of losing any of them, especially Lucca, his best friend who had started it all, but he quashed that sadness by reminding himself that he would never run down, never wear out. He would always be there.

And he thought to himself, sitting there amongst the people he loved, _There is no reason for a robot not to write a book about his experiences, is there?_ And he thought of the automatic printing press that Lucca had built, not so long ago.

**END**.


End file.
